Anthem of the Picts
by Pallan Minerva
Summary: Scathach opened the bag she had kept locked up for so long, indignation burning in her chest. She'd had enough. They called her teacher? Oh, she'd teach. Once he'd been on the receiving end of her bag, the Master would learn.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, Master, I have this throbbing ache..." Nightingale moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her bosom into his chest. "And I just don't know what to do... none of my medical knowledge feels applicable here."

"Don't worry, Flo," he whispered in her ear, and he could feel her shiver at his breath. "I'm well-trained in treating aches of this kind."

"Could you please show me, Master?" Her innocent doe-like eyes made his erection throb.

"I would be happy to."

Her lips were a pale red, barely touched, and yet so inviting. Her expression was the ignorance of a virgin who didn't understand what they were feeling but wanted more of it. He had to swallow his lust, as otherwise he would have torn her clothes apart right there and then. That wouldn't be fun. He wanted to savor each and every second of this. He couldn't wait to see the face she made when he broke her on his cock.

He leaned in to kiss her, and that's when everything wrong.

A loud bang hit his door, and he jumped back, accidentally taking Nightingale with him as he landed on the bed. He didn't get even a second to rest, though, because the second impact smashed the metal door open, sending fragments of steel everywhere, though luckily nowhere near him and his Servant.

"What the fu—"

The worst sound that man had ever known screamed into the room, a dark brightness that blotted out a full moon. The screech of bagpipes filled his bedchamber, not one, not two, but _five_ pairs of pipes that made him want to tear his eardrums out.

Even Nightingale couldn't handle it, she was covering her ears and curling up into the fetal position. He might have joined her had someone not jumped onto the bed and planted a maroon-clad boot into his chest.

Scáthach held the ugliest instrument known to man, her face filled with the passionate rage that only a Scottish warrior queen could provide.

"_Scotland forever!_" She screamed, spittle flying into his eye, then shoved the death-giving end of the bagpipe next to his face and blew into it.

He didn't remember much else after that. Only pain.

* * *

Whiskey + bad smut + "SCOTLAND FOREVER BIGGER EARRAPE EDITION" = this.


	2. Chapter 2

Shirou, as he was called in this world, silently closed the door to Artoria's bedchamber behind him. He exhaled and checked the time on his menu.

_Just before midnight. Good._

He looked up, his smirk curling as he saw Artoria's bashful expression in the moonlight. She couldn't even look at him, only clutch the blanket to cover her modest breasts. She looked the most beautiful when she was shy like this; so pure, untouched, undefiled. Like any hot-blooded guy, he wanted to see her writhing beneath him.

He slowly walked to the bed, and he could see her curl up even more as he approached. Stopping at the foot of the bed, he kneeled down and put his finger on her chin, pushing her head so that he could meet her gaze.

"Don't be scared," he said, his words like wine to her ears. He knew they were, he had edited her to take them that way, after all. "I don't bite all that much. For now, that is."

She blushed and clutched at his hand, squeezing tightly. Her scent turned sharper.

_Oh yes. I know you want this._

He leaned forward and kissed her neck, just beneath her jawline. Her mouth opened and she let out the smallest gasp of pleasure. This was a good place to start, but later he'd have to change her parameters to make her a hundred—no, a thousand times more sensitive to his touch. Even his breath should be able to make her cum.

His hand moved down from her shoulder to her navel. Why bother with too much foreplay? She wanted him anyway, might as well just make her a little happy before he plunged into her. It's not like she had much chest to speak of, anyway. He almost chuckled in derision.

_Play to your strengths, Pendragon._

As he was about to push his finger below her waist, though, a force hit him right in the cheek and threw him right across the room. His face was scratched to hell, and he felt his jawbone had broken. It took him barely a moment to realize that the window had broken and a new person had landed in the room. Artoria's shocked expression means she had no idea this was coming, so it wasn't some kind of betrayal.

"Who the fuck are y—"

The figure clad in darkness barely shifted forward before his head snapped to the side, the impact sending him straight to the floor. Were it not for his high DEF stat, his neck would have snapped and he would have died.

And then the sound began, the cacophony of the demons at the back of his nightmares.

He turned his hearing sensitivity to 1%, and yet somehow he could still hear it. It drilled past his nerves and stimulated his neurons directly, that heinous sound. It was evil, pure evil, and he couldn't begin to understand it. He managed to turn his head in the figure's direction, clutching his ears, and cast _Analyze_ at her.

All that was returned to him was that her name was _Scáthach_, Warrior Queen of Dún Scáith. Her level was flashing between "UNKNOWN" and "999,999,999", and every other stat was just empty, not even the question mark he normally saw with enemies that were stronger than him.

He thought that he had gotten rid of all of those.

_What the fuck is this secret final boss doing here?!_

He slowly tried to get up, but she took another step forward, making him cringe and crawl backwards. She stepped into the moonlight, and despite her form-fitting suit that highlighted all of her curves, the only thing he could focus on was her weapon, her instrument of torture.

_Are those __**bagpipes?!**_

"Invader from another land," she spoke, her voice commanding and filling the entire room, "you will not lay another hand on my fellow monarch. I have seen your wickedness... and I will enact my _vengeance _upon _thee_."

He opened up his menu, quickly editing his own stats to put all of his points into ATK and pulling out his upgraded Excalibur as fast as he could. There was no way that even this lady was going to be able to stand up to the combined imbued might of the Fae, the Four Great Satans, the melted remains of Mjölnir, and fragments from the Tsumuguri Muramasa...

_...right?_

"I don't know who you are," he injected all of his frustration and rage into his voice to push away his fears, "but I'm not going to let you ruin my life!"

Excalibur began to burn in black, white, and red flames, reading itself for a blast that should obliterate the crazy bagpipe-bearing burgundy-colored birdie. It would likely damage the castle walls, but that was an acceptable loss to deal with a foe the likes of which he had never faced before. She needed to die so that his peaceful life in another world could be maintained.

He swung at her, ready either to bisect her or to Excaliblast her, and was met by the bagpipes in the middle of his swing.

Excalibur shattered.

He blinked, and was then kicked through the window. His ribcage split in half from the impact to his sternum, as he had taken all of his points out of DEF.

_I never even got to touch Artoria's boobs..._

The last sound he heard was those ACCURSED FUCKING PIPES—


	3. Chapter 3

His touch was fire on snow, melting her into a puddle of warm water that burbled in ecstasy. One of his claws trailed down her chest to lightly rest against her belly button, and she mewled in desire. His icy gaze gave her nothing but the need to use her. It made her spine shiver all the way down to her tailbone in a combination of fear and arousal.

The one claw became two, and the two became four, and she gasped as they traced her abdominals, lightning on copper wire.

"Softness usually begets weakness," the animalistic Berserker muttered, "yet I know what your strength is."

"Y-yeah?" she whispered.

"Yes. You will make an excellent mother for my offspring."

Cold words stoked the fire in her core and she reached up to him, only to be forced back down by the hand on her navel.

"Stay down," he said. "It will be easier for you if you don't move. You'll need to focus on taking it all in."

She nodded, biting her lip. His eyes traced her entire body; once, twice. The claws ran down from her navel to her mound, and with just the tiniest pressure upon it, her back arched. She couldn't stop the violent groan of need.

"Please," she whispered, tears leaking from her eyes.

"As you wish, _Master._" There was an undercurrent of mocking humor underneath her title, but she didn't care. She wanted to be broken under him.

His tail flicked again, and he began to take the last vestiges of undergarments off.

_Knock knock._

She froze and looked to the door.

"W-who is it?" she called out. A pause where she spotted that Berserker had stopped mid-motion, his gaze pointed at the door.

"Oh no," he mumbled with a fear that was so uncharacteristic of him that she had lost all desire to be bred by him.

A large dent shaped like a foot slammed into the door and she jumped. Before she even had time to reach for her underwear, the door snapped in two under the force, and blinding light from the hallway filled the room. As her eyes adjusted, she saw who entered.

"Scáthach?" she asked, confused.

"Aye," the Scot said clearly, a spear manifesting in her right hand. "Y'wanna explain what'cher doin', laddy?"

"Shishou, I can explain—" Cú started, his red eyes wide with terror. Terror earned, as it turned out, because the Scottish Lancer spun into a side kick that launched him into the nearby wall, making the metal creak in protest.

"Ah'm sure ye can," rage colored her tone in red, "but before ye do, I need ta hurt ye."

"No no no wait—" His protests were interrupted by Scáthach slamming her heel into his crotch region. His scream reached five octaves beyond what was humanly possible, and she grinded further into his nether regions. Ritsuka winced in sympathy.

"Ye thought ye could jus' plant'cher seed in any field ye see, eh?" She whacked him across the face with her spear, drawing blood as it passed through his lips. "Ye thought that any bitch who spreads her legs deserve what she gets, eh?"

The Scot leaned down and grabbed him by the neck, and though he had much more height on her, when she lifted him to eye level he seemed small in the face of her fury.

"Ah didn't take yer virginity to teach ye how to please a woman jus' so yew could throw it all away for a hard and tough pump an' dump, ye filthy degenerate."

"Shishou I swear—" She hit him with a right cross, and somehow despite the fact that he was in a Servant container, Ritsuka swore she saw one of his teeth get knocked out.

"Ye swore to me ten thousand times, but the only ones tha' matter are the geasa that bind ye to yer word. Ah don't see no geas bindin' ye here."

Lancer let the limp and moaning body of Berserker drop to the ground and then turned to her. She shook in pure fear as the Scot slowly made her way towards her naked form on the bed. Even were the door not open to the hall and she had five layers on, she would have felt exposed underneath those eyes.

"D-don't—"

"Ah'm not gonna hurt ye," the Lancer said, sitting on the bed. Her gaze did not soften as she turned herself to kneel in Ritsuka's direction. "Ah jus' 'ave one question for ye."

"What?" she asked faintly, and then gasped as a soft hand touched at her navel.

"Why'd ya start with the spikes and screams?" Scáthach smirked. "Ye gotta ease yerself into it all. Here, let me show you..."


	4. Chapter 4

Gilgamesh slammed the door open, the wooden frame cracking as it found itself unable to hold together in the face of his awesome power. Another sign that the humans of this time were weak and pitiful creatures, unworthy to look upon the same stars that he had when he was alive. If they could not even craft homes that could stand up to his strength, then they were weaker than cockroaches.

He chuffed in laughter as he stepped inside, easily walking over the entrance step.

"Saber!" he called out, "I have come for my bride! I will consider sparing the occupants of this household if you do not dally in leaving with me, but the King is not patient."

A yell resounded as a red-haired boy ran around the corner in front of him, holding a metal pipe behind him to be swept out in an obvious attack. Gilgamesh did not bother wasting his time with this dog, a portal opening up to launch a weapon that hit the boy in the side. He was thrown into another room, letting out a pained scream that indicated he was alive, though not unharmed.

_Good. All the more encouragement for Saber to come quickly._

His clanking footsteps marched slowly down the hall and around the corner. He knew that she was in here, he could feel her presence, but why wasn't she running? He frowned. In fact, she was staying completely still.

One more door cracked under his grip as he entered the living room. He could see her, encased in full armor, invisible blade in hand. She glared deeply at him, something he couldn't help but laugh at.

"That's it, yes!" he said. "You are at the height of your beauty when you suffer like this! Now, will you come quietly, as an obedient wife should, or do I have to begin breaking you here?"

Her grip on her blade tightened and her stare darkened, but she said nothing.

"As you wish," he said, opening his treasury to begin firing at her.

She dodged to the side, simultaneously parrying away many of his treasures with her blade, but her gaze did not leave him. She did not come any closer, though, keeping a distance from him that puzzled him. She was a close-range fighter, wasn't she?

"You will never escape me, Saber," he stated as he intensified his fire. "Run as much as you like, you will be m—ugh!"

His jaw snapped shut and his entire body froze, paralyzed in place. He was unable to even open more gates, for whatever reason his mental commands were failing to activate his treasury. He would have yelled in rage were he able to move even that much. He managed to turn his eyes downward enough to see he had stepped in a runic circle.

"By Saint Patrick's four bastard sons..." the person who was wearing Saber's form but was not her spoke with a thick Scottish accent. "I cannae stand listening to men like you throw their cocks around. Please, spare us all the sufferin' and just kill us already."

The figure smirked as Saber's body melted away, replaced by a long maroon-haired woman in a tight bodysuit.

Fury blossomed from deep within his chest, and by every god that he had ever killed he wanted to _destroy_ this woman. How _dare_ she keep him from his prize? How _dare_ she entrap him as she had? She would suffer beyond any definition of suffering, he would make her feel every pain imaginable and every pain that could not be imagined, he would—

Pain followed the fury. The woman had thrust her spear right into his heart, and he was suffocating on his own blood.

"I hope I never meet ya in my kingdom," she said as his body began to disintegrate. "Yer too loud and too bright ta fit in."


	5. Chapter 5

Shirou sighed deeply, feeling a deep sense of pleasure as Rider repeatedly lifted herself off of his member and dropped herself down again, a moan escaping her with every slap of flesh on flesh. Her glasses had long since been flung off in the vigor of her self-impaling, but it mattered little, for he had projected Rho Aias over his eyes and was thus impervious to her gaze. He hadn't asked for this, but such was his life.

"Khh..." Rin was blatantly seething in envy, but her excitement was as obvious as the liquid dripping down her thighs. "S... Shirou..."

"Yes, my dear?" he said in a smooth, sexy baritone.

She bit her lip. Her legs were beginning to tremble and her eyes went unfocused.

"I'm right here," he said.

"I wish I were too..." she mumbled. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, and she jumped, then shook her head. "Sorry. That... _Archer_ is here to see you." She spat the Servant's class out with vehement derision.

"Send him in," he said calmly. She nodded, but didn't move. "Rin, please."

"S... can I have a turn next?" she asked quietly. He smiled.

"Whenever she's done, yes, it's your turn," he said with magnanimity. Rin fell to the floor, mewling loudly, and the stench of sex intensified as clear liquid pooled around her.

"T-Thank you!" she moaned, beginning to crawl away. He watched her leave until Rider stopped bouncing and grabbed his head.

"Shirou, please." Her square pupils were close to dilated. "Please, please, please."

"As you wish."

He picked her up by her armpits and stood her up, then spanked her so that she would bend over. He quickly thrust into her again, and her guttural yell of pleasure echoed in the living room.

The door slid open.

"Shirou," Archer said, fully bowing at the waist. "I came to a realization. I was wrong. You and your ideals are correct. The path you will walk will be far superior to my own, and I will—"

"I know." Shirou did not cease thrusting, he only snapped his fingers, and then EMIYA was a woman. "Come here."

Immediately the female Archer fell to the floor, her pants soaking wet. She was unable to get up for minutes, stuck moaning incoherently and drooling as the pleasure of becoming his overwhelmed her.

Shirou was patient with her, though. Because that was what a hero was—patient, kind, and never failing to save others.

Soon, she came to, and then she came to him, crawling on her knees and elbows but so eagerly making her way to him. Her gray eyes shone with desire.

Rider moaned one last time and gushed all over his member, going limp in his arms. He sighed and pulled out of her, gently letting her down. As soon as he let go of her, though, Archer was already in his lap, her cheeks burning in a maiden's demure blush. She latched onto his cock like a woman who stumbled upon an oasis after wandering the desert for forty years.

He peacefully brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and patted her head as she sucked him off.

"Good girl," he said. "You'll learn in time what it means to be a hero. It's the most wonderful thing in the world, I promise."

She moaned, and the vibrations sent him close to the edge. He grunted.

"Take it and learn, you cynic _bitch!" _

He ejaculated long ropes inside her throat, and for five minutes she gargled on his cum until he was finished. She swallowed it all down easily, innocent eyes glinting up at him.

"I... I understand now," she said. "It's never wrong to save others."

He smiled and cupped her head.

"That's right," he said. "Such a good girl."


End file.
